


This is War

by Lulu3



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Submission, War, amity, dauntless, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulu3/pseuds/Lulu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amity's new leader has lead them straight into war and herself straight into Eric's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story popped into my head after watching American Horror Story. One of the songs- Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge, just reminded me so much of Eric.
> 
>  
> 
> So this won't be nearly as long as The Training, but maybe two or three chapters. (or until it's out of my brain.)
> 
> This also came about after I've been reading so much about Eric and his character (both in the novels and fanfiction/ novels vs. fanfiction.) I definitely believe there's so much that could have been done with his character, and this was my way of exploring a darker side of him (feelings wise).
> 
> Or maybe I just spend too much time on tumblr lol.
> 
> \+ Also, interpret the war any way you wish. The mentions of it here are very vauge, because it didn't need any more attention that being a minor setting for the story.
> 
> +The story will only take place from Eric's POV which is a huge challenge. Let me know if it works out.

Amity gets a new leader on Thursday.

The announcement comes in the form of an e-mail, and I go over it several times, reading between the lines of Max's carefully worded message. The new leader, elected by the members of Amity, will take over effective immediately.

I find myself smiling.

I take great pleasure in Johanna's departure. The woman was nothing more than a passive nuisance. Never actively doing anything, and never enough intelligence to form an original thought in her head.

I savor the words over and over as I read through her unnecessarily wordy statement about her departure. She's taken a lesser positon amongst the community, and she willingly relinquishes her position in the faction. My lips form a sneer just reading the words. How absolutely wonderful for her.

Her timing is key here and I know the real reason why she's no longer willing to be the mouthpiece for Amity.

The war is starting, and Amity is the last needed line of defense.

 

 

Johanna's replacement sits across from me, and she's staring down at the paper in front of her as though trying to memorize it. I inspect her carefully; she's exactly what one would expect from Amity, just not who one would think they would elect as their newest so- called leader. She's younger looking, small and pale with green eyes and this long dark hair that looks like she hastily pulled it on top of her head. She's dressed as though she just breezed in from an afternoon in the fields- her dark maroon sundress is far too sweet and innocent, and the sweater she's pulled over does little to hide the fact that she's not used to being out of the sun.

She's frowning at the paper, but she smiles when Max comes in, and she even grins at Jack when he makes a grand arrival.

My sudden dislike for her flares up instantly, hot and quick. I don't like the way she seems happy to be here, nor do I like the way she seems easy to get along with. The only way I'll ever get along with her is if she's on her knees in front of me, her mouth open and her eyes staring up at me. For a moment I let myself think of that image- the way my hand would look in her dark hair, urging her on.

She meets my stare curiously, and I realize I'm smirking in her direction. I hold her stare back, watching the unease finally creep into her posture. It takes her longer than I would expect for her to look away, and I relish the way she finally breaks her stare and turns her attention back to Max.

Her cheeks look pink, and she doesn't look at me again for the rest of the meeting.

Max finishes up earlier than expected, and I recline in my seat, scrolling through e-mails on my phone while she lingers behind to talk with him. I hear him say her name a few times, and I mentally repeat it in my head while she talks about how she's convinced Amity to fight alongside Dauntless.

Her plan sounds stupid, but it worked. She simply urged them to fight for their own faction and for themselves. They weren't Abnegation, so they were allowed to have an inkling of selfishness for their own safety and their own land. It must have struck a nerve with them, because she tells Max they are willing to fight, but that their training is minimal.

I glare at her while she talks.

She sounds eager and naïve, and it won't be long before she dies in battle, crusading for a cause she doesn't understand.

Max clears his throat and I stand, flashing her a cold smile. I have decided I have little interest in this girl, and I raise my eyebrows at him as I walk by. It's cute that he's willing to let her think she'll make a difference when he really just needs the men in her fields to fight alongside his own.

My fingers brush against hers as I walk past them, and I take delight in the way she tenses up.

 

 

Ivy stands beside me.

She's too close for her own comfort. I watch the way she seems tightly wound up out here, a far cry from the relaxed girl in the meeting room. She fidgets with the too long sleeves on her temporary Dauntless uniform, and I try not to laugh at the way she looks like a small child playing dress up.

We had met up with those from Amity who were willing to fight alongside us. There were many more than expected, and I was not surprised to find them all in decent fighting shape. Long hours in the Amity fields had left them in peak physical condition. Some could shoot a gun fairly well, though most of them had never even held one before. We only had a week to train them, and I'd found myself beside Four, Ivy, Max, and Peter. The men were split into large groups, and they rotated through the training exercises quickly.

We were either going to be all right, or completely fucked.

They weren't my highest choice of who would fight with us, but we didn't have many options. The other factions had already sent anyone they could, and Amity had a much larger population than the others.

Ivy commands the class in front of us to aim their rifles, and I smirk at her display of leadership over them. They listen to her, their posture careful and their sights on the targets. She walks behind them, watching and encouraging them, doing her best to help correct anything she can.

The irony is deep.

The newest leader of the most peaceful faction is training them to kill.

I watch her adjust a man's elbow, and when she steps back I walk closely behind her, and I yank her back by her arm. Her eyes fly open, dark green staring up at me in honest confusion.

"When was the last time you shot a gun, Ivy." I say her name with disgust. My grip is tight on her scrawny arm, and she stupidly tries to wiggle away.

"I know how to shoot a gun." She insists, and she stops struggling. "You're hurting my arm. Let go." She yanks away the best she can, but I'm easily more than twice her size, and she can't escape my grip.

"Why would someone from Amity know how to shoot a gun?" I'm mildly intrigued, a spark of genuine curiosity running through me. She stares up at me, and frowns.

"My brothers taught me to hunt." She says the words softly, and I tighten my grip on her arm. How easy would it be to drag her behind the wall, to twist her arm until she says my name and then shove her away once she's realized she's merely taken Johanna's place as next up to die.

"Then you should be well prepared for this war." I release her arm abruptly, and she takes a step back from me, her eyes narrowing at me. I resist the urge to step closer to her, to put my fingers back on her. She shakes her head at me and shoves a stray piece of hair out of her face.

"I don't think anyone can ever be fully prepared for war, Eric." She says my name gently and there is absolutely zero malice where I expect it to hear it.

 

 

The first bomb explodes and the ground shakes beneath us.

"Left! Go to the left!" Peter's voice breaks through the explosion, and he's a moment too late. I'm already moving that way, my boots crunching over the dry grass. The troops to the side of me follow suit, except for Ivy. She's floundering for a second, stupidly trying to pull one of the remaining Amity back with her. He's too tall and heavy for her frame, and he's badly wounded. His arm hangs at an odd angle and his leg drags beside him. He's about to weigh her down and there's mere seconds before the next bomb will more than likely go off.

I head right, and the action is unconscious. I reach her quickly, and shove the man off of her.

"No!" She protests, her hands moving to push me away. "He's my brother!" She's shrieking now, and I reach for her waist. My fingers dig into her sides until they feel her bones of her ribcage through the thick jacket, and I press harder.

"Stop! No!" She's yelling, reaching for her brother. The man stumbles a few feet away from us before he collapses, a dark pool of blood dripping from ear. He's gone, or will be very soon. I yank Ivy back until she's against my chest and I pick her up. Despite all her gear, her weapons and boots, she's not heavy. Her fists pound against me, a very non Amity rage built up inside of her. "You asshole! Don't leave him!"

I stride quickly and we barely make it behind the ravine of rocks before the next bomb explodes. I set her down, moving to crouch us both low and out of the way and she starts to yell. "We have to go back! We have to go back and get him."

I clamp my hand over her mouth, and hold her tightly against me.

"Shut up. He's not going to make. You're about to blow our cover and there's nowhere else to go right now."

The men in the red uniforms are closing in around us, and I keep my grip on her tight. There is a lazy mix of dirt and smoke, and I can feel Ivy breathing heavily, almost erratically. The men pass us, and I wish she would stop hyperventilating so I could get a good shot in. Luckily for me, she finally calms down and I shove her aside. I easily take out the three men before I turn back to her, finding her wiping her eyes.

I sure hope this is everything she thought it would be.

 

 

Her room is next to mine.

Max had the brilliant plan to have her stay in Dauntless. She's got a second in command back in Amity, and all of this is laughable. We're at max capacity here, but Max wanted her close by, ready to lead them back into battle at a moment's notice. Over half of the faction is here, bunking with the active duty soldiers, so whoever needs to be overseen back in Amity is beyond me.

She'd been practically silent the entire way home, aside from the occasional sniffle. I was tempted to cruelly ask her if this was just as easy as hunting back home. For some reason I kept my mouth shut, trying to ignore the fact that she would have died out there had I not pulled her back.

 

I can almost guarantee the knocking on my door is her.

I stare at the door to my apartment, wondering if it were possible to ignore it. Pretend I was sleeping or that I simply didn't give a fuck about who was on the other side. I finally fling it open, barking a short greeting, unsurprised to find her there. She's got a paper in her hand and she stares up at me.

"What do you want?" My words are a snarl and I feel irritated that she's felt enough of a connection to come over here. I saved her life, and she owes me, but in this moment I'd like nothing more than to fall into my bed and not open my eyes until sometime tomorrow.

"Max dropped this off." Her words are soft and quiet as she thrusts the paper at me. Her hand is shaking and I snatch the paper up quickly. It's some sort of attendance record, and I realize it shows who was lost in battle today.

"Amtiy only lost two people, and one of them was my brother." She looks up at me like she expects something from me and I shrug.

"It's a part of war. I saved your life. I couldn't save you both." My response is nasty, and I wonder how stupid this girl is. Did she not know what she was getting herself into. No one willingly signs up for this sort of shit thinking it'll be a walk in the park. Dauntless signs up for it because it's their job. We are brave and we fight for the city. She willingly led Amity to sign up for it, knowing the full consequences.

"Why are you so mean?" She's looking up at me, and I try not to focus on her mouth. She's chewing her lip, and I have the urge to bite her. To shove her up against the wall and bite at her lips until they bleed and she doesn't ask me any more questions.

"Go away, Amity." I move to shut the door and her head falls.

She can seek comfort elsewhere because I have none to offer.

 

 

The next few weeks are the same.

She fights beside me, tirelessly as we make minute progress. Without Amity besides us we'd be losing the war for sure. Ivy keeps up with me as though she's on a personal mission, and I have no patience for her. I shove her aside when she's in my way; kicking her away from me when she stands to close. I watch her frustration with amusement.

She has no choice but to stay with me.

Peter and Four simply follow my commands and my commands come from Max who isn't out here all the time. The Amity soldiers seem to know that the commands Ivy gives them are the proper orders to follow, but it all stems from my words. It's enough to warrant the headache blossoming behind my eye.

Today I can't find her for a moment, and I ignore the raw chewed up sensation that starts up in my stomach. "Ivy." I roar her name, trying to survey the grounds. The previous gunfire has ceased and both sides appear to be retreating. I finally see her scampering towards me, her head down and her shoulders slumped.

Something is wrong. Little Amity rarely looks defeated, even after the death of her brother. She makes her way towards me, and I realize a second too late she's in enemy sights.

"Move." I snarl at her, and her head jerks up. Her eyes lock on mine, she tries to move quickly. I hear the shots fire, and I let out a string of swears as I make my way towards her. Babysitting her isn't my job, but I don't want to deal with Max's shitty lecture if I have to tell him she didn't make it back. I grab hold of her much rougher than necessary, ignoring her squeak, and I pull her into the back of one of the trucks. The driver has been waiting impatiently for some time now and I bang on the back wall to signal he can leave.

We lurch forward as he takes off and I roughly pull her close to me.

Her lip is bleeding, split open in a few spots, and her eye is irritated and swollen. There's blood on her cheek, and her hair is matted against her forehead. She looks like a far cry from the girl that sat across from me in a conference room, smiling at everyone who walked in the door.

"What happened?" I bark at her.

She swallows, and her whole face seems to crumple. "I got caught for a minute."

I raise an eyebrow. "You got caught. For a minute."

She nods, keeping her eyes downwards. "I got away. I thought…I thought I saw my brother."

I resist the urge to snort at her.

"Sorry." She tells me and she finally looks up at me. Her green eyes are glassy, weary with exhaustion and desperation. As if my hand acts on its own, I reach forward and brush the bloody bangs out of her eyes. My stare falls to her lips and my thumb works over the bloody cut.

She winces.

"You'll need stitches." I tell her, and I pretend I still don't have the urge to hold her by her throat until she agrees to not do anything else stupid.

 

 

She is soft, much softer than the women that normally grace my bed.

I wasn't surprised when she showed up after the infirmary. She needed me to sign off on this paper that said she was able to return to active duty, and I almost threw it in her face. I could give a fuck if she was okayed for battle or not. I'd drag her out by her hair if I had to. This was no longer just my war, it was all consuming and it was just as much hers now.

But she'd held her head high and asked me what time she should be up tomorrow.

I stared at her.

I thought for sure she'd break by now. Give up, head back to Amity with her tail between her legs and her shitty army behind her. But I couldn't afford for her to give up, not like this.

I'd found myself stepping towards her, my hand finding the bone in her jaw and pulling myself up to my full height. Her head barely came up to my chest, her dark hair reaching the pocket on my jacket. I smirked down at her, knowing full well she wasn't going to push me away now.

I knew what she wanted and I knew what she needed. The stress and angst that had been building up inside her had to be beyond tolerable now. This life was such a stark difference from the one she'd known, and I knew full well what she would explode if she didn't get it out.

I find the hair at the nape of her neck, my fingers working to twist into it until her head jerks up to mine. She looks surprised at the unexpected contact and her eyes widen when my other arm snakes around her back, pulling her flush against me.

"I haven't decided what time we'll be down there. Peter is leading the squadron in the morning."

I'm staring at her mouth, her pink lips stitched back together with ugly black thread. Each cut only needed a few stitches, but they are very black against her pink lips.

I bend forward, until my lips graze hers.

She jerks back and I smirk at her.

"What are you…" She doesn't finish. I kiss her roughly, uncaring if she bleeds again. I fist her hair tightly, pulling until it yanks on her scalp and I shove myself against her. We break apart with sudden force, and she gasps for air as though she's been underwater. "Eric."

It's what she's saying now.

She's on her hand and knees in front of me, my hands on her hips and her ass wiggling against me with every thrust. She'd submitted herself willingly; it was easy enough to coax her out of the hallway, and even easier to coax her out of her borrowed clothes. Leggings and shirts aside, she was tiny, way smaller without anything on.

She'd been tight and wet when I thrust into her, the mewling in her throat only spurring me on. She'd groaned when I yanked on her hair, one of my hands tangled in her dark locks. I liked her like this, compliant and docile, her spine arcing and her hands fisting my sheets with each frantic thrust of my hips. I don't have to see her face this way, and I don't want to.

She needs the release the same way I do, and I don't need her staring into my eyes while trying to force something between us that isn't' there. This isn't love and it might be war, but I'm not about to make anything fair for her. She'll get off, no doubt about that. But it'll be on my terms.

I groan against her she pushes herself back. Her words are frantic now, her voice still sweet despite her current position.

"Harder." She almost whimpers it, and I wish she could see me shrug in indifference. I oblige her though; I yank her hips back towards me and fuck her until I can't see straight. I can hear her moaning, saying my name over and over. I don't say hers though. I do let her come first, relishing in the way she tightens around me, her whole body tensing up as though she could snap in half. I follow quickly, thrusting a few more times until I've emptied myself inside of her. She all but collapses onto my bed and I decide to give her a few minutes before I kick her out.

 

 

I awake sometime in the night.

She's still in my bed, her warm body against mine. I scowl at her sleepily. My arm is over her as though I want her to stay near me, and my hardening dick is pressed up against her ass. I had her again a few hours ago, but even in my bone deep exhaustion I feel insatiable. I want to be in her again, buried to the hilt until I forget that there's a war outside with no end in sight.

She mumbles sleepily as I nudge her, trying to get her the fuck out of my bed.

It doesn't work, so instead I slip my hand between her thighs until I find the slick wetness I want. She lets out a small whimper and I push her on her side until I can slide into her.

She's hot, fucking hot and wet and slick and I try hard to not groan at the feeling of her. I thrust in and out lazily, one of my hands cupping her soft breast and pulling her tight into my chest. She wakes up as I bite her neck, teething scraping soft skin until it scratches.

"Eric."

She says my name again, and this time I thrust my hips forward furiously. I don't want her to say my name. I'm doing her a much needed favor here. I could have easily sent her back home, or left her to figure out a way to take care of this herself.

I bite down again, the sudden urge almost uncontrollable. I want to mark her, to mar her skin with my own hands and teeth. To outright claim her as mine to do as I want. My hands leave her breast and reaches upwards to her collarbone, and I dig my nails into her skin. She whimpers again, angling her head back and exposing her pale skin. My nails tear at her skin, pleased when faint red streaks appear, but it doesn't matter. She'll be battered and bruised by the war just as much as she will be me.

She comes after a few minutes and I find myself gloating against the back of her. She's easy, too fucking easy to please and when I come, I make sure I stay in her, slick and sticky between her thighs.

 

 

I wake her up sometime around six, and she looks at me blearily. Her lips are swollen and her hair is a long tangled black mess. Her legs are sticky, evidence of our night together still down her thighs.

"Shower." I tell her, and I nearly pull her out of the bed. She follows after me obediently, and she stumbles into the spray of water. I slip in after her, staring at her form underneath the spray. She looks outright exhausted, and I can't help the pleased grin that crosses my face. I've kept her up almost all night, giving her almost all of what she wanted. She's covered in marks that come exclusively from me, bold evidence of her loss of control.

I watch as she fumbles while washing her hair, trying her best to scrub it clean from our night together. I take pity on her, stepping behind her and hissing in her ear.

"Let me."

Afterwards she stumbles to my bed, crawling in it without asking. Every fiber of my being wants to yell at her to get out of it. She has no right to be in it, despite how great she felt. But I'm also exhausted and I find my eyes closing as soon I sit down on the bed. In a rare moment I decide I'll let her sleep for a few hours, and then tell her to leave. She'll learn her place with me. As long as she's here she'll learn what's acceptable.

It doesn't matter. I sleep longer than intended and she's gone when I wake up.

 

 

Ivy sits across from me, and she looks similar to when I first met her. Her lips aren't bloodied and her stitches are gone, her eyes are bright and alert and her borrowed uniform still looks too large.

It's been a month since the war started.

We've made huge progress lately. It seems as if the other side can't keep up with us, and are slowly retreating. Not to mention the fact that we've killed enough of them off to be noticeable. Their troops seem to trickle onto the field instead of storming it, their men weary and tired.

It's been two weeks since the first time I had my way with Ivy, and four hours since the last time I came in her presence. There was something oddly satisfying about this little scrap of a girl, her dark hair against my thighs as she took me in her mouth. It was even more satisfying when I'd heard the delightful little rumor that she had someone back home, someone waiting for her to return to Amity.

She'd never mentioned his name, and I'd never asked.

Last night she'd been atop of me, arching backwards as my mouth sought out her neck. I marked her over and over, the line between the war outside and the war of our nights together almost nonexistent. I never liked anyone on top of me; it was too easy to give them the idea that they had some sort of hold over me or that I even cared what position they preferred.

But she felt delicious like that.

Her legs on each side of mine, the way I could touch all of her, the way she seemed to stare at me as though this meant more than it did. That part was laughable, but I went with it. Sometimes I kissed her less roughly than I meant to, but it all felt good. She felt good. Her lips were soft and warm, easily pressing against my own, easily going where I wanted them.

She said my name, every time, and I felt the sweet burst of triumph run through me when it escaped her lips. She'd go back to him eventually. But until then she was mine.

 

 

There is little triumph when she gets hurt.

I watch it happen in slow motion. She's following a few of the Dauntless soldiers, and she steps in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone of us, but of course, it's her. The men in red throw something at her, something quick and explosive and she's thrown back a few feet, her head smacking loudly against the ground.

Everyone reacts quickly; most of the men aim for those who were attacking. The fire easily, for they are well trained, and there is quietness in the air when they are done. I find myself making my way towards Ivy, yanking her up right gracelessly. Her head lolls for a second before I see her spark back to life. She coughs for a second, spitting out dust and blood and I pull her closer.

"Watch where you're walking, Amity." I snarl. She digs her nails into my shoulders, and I know what she wants. She wants to lay her head down on my shoulder; to collapse against me as I carry her back in attempt to find the smallest speck of comfort she can.

It's not my finest moment when I nearly shake her to keep her awake, then dump her at the first possible medic station.

I don't look back when I leave her, marching right back into the now resumed gunfire.

 

When I find her later that night, she's wandering the hallways in an oversized shirt and pajama pants that tell me she's been released from the infirmary. She's clutching the same yellow papers she had a month ago; release papers that will allow her to once again risk her life out there. She keeps her head down and she doesn't look up until she's in front of her door.

"Who let you out?" My words come out as a snap, and she looks up at me, blinking tiredly. I can see the defeat on her face. Cheating death twice is pure luck and she knows hers is running out.

"I did." She says, and her words are soft as ever. I'm used to her tone now; her voice is typically quiet and calm, even when she's losing herself beneath me.

"You did?" This amuses me greatly. Little Amity managed to force her own way out of the nurses' greedy hands. No doubt did they want to keep her. To make sure she didn't' have some sort of internal bleeding or brain damage.

Ivy nods and sighs. "Good night, Eric. I'll see you tomorrow." She moves to open the door and I step in front of her, using my size to block her.

"No. You come with me." I command, relaxing my shoulders slightly. It had nagged at me that she might have been seriously injured. Knowing she's alright, walking and talking and still Ivy, allows me to resume our routine. I've been waiting until I could find her, toss her onto my bed, and lose myself in her. She's an easy escape, and while I could definitely find the same thing with any girl in Dauntless, it's her I want in my bed.

For now only she will do.

But she simply shakes her head and glances down. "No, I'm too tired Eric. And my head really hurts." She bites at her lip, the same way she's bit down on it as she came undone around my dick.

"Are you telling me no?" I stare at her in disbelief, feeing myself grow hot with impatience at her denial. The anger that rushes through me is palpable.

Ivy nods and finally meets my stare.

"If you want to come in and lay down with me you are more than welcome to. But I just want to sleep." Her words are heavy and tired, filled with unspoken frustration. I share her frustration, but mine stems from a different place.

"I don't want to lay down with you." I hiss at her, my lips curling into a cruel sneer. My words are cold and honest, but she nods at them.

"Then goodnight." She holds my stare for a second, her face falling slightly. It's fleeting though. She masks it well, but her bone tired weariness can't be hidden. I step aside and nearly snarl at her as she opens the door to her apartment and heavily steps over the doorstep. The door shuts with a loud click and I'm left standing in the hallway, hot fury burning through my veins.

It's not so much that she told me no, it's how badly I wanted her to say yes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Late Halloween!
> 
> Thank so much for reading through this. There's seriously so much in my brain and it's like it all wants to be written down at once. So thank you for reading and sending me what you think. Again, this will probably only be a few more chapters (unless it turns into way more), and The Training will be updated in the next few days for anyone that follows that one too :)
> 
> On a minor note, this delves just a tiny bit further into Eric's brain, and it's all pretty subjective. Think about the worst crush you've ever had in your life, then pretend you're Eric trying to deal with it.
> 
> +Any grammatical & spelling errors are my fault; I've read through this probably two hundred times but I don't catch everything!

If she thinks she's sleeping, she's wrong.

I open her door with my key.

One of the perks of being a leader in Dauntless meant I had access to any door I wanted to walk through. Max had never once limited what I could open, including the apartments. In the event of an emergency, or some complete and utter take over, someone needed to be able to get into places.

Not many knew of this little privilege. How uneasy it would make them feel to know I could waltz right into their homes without much more than a swipe of a keycard. It was a rare privilege, one I had kept to myself.

Until now.

Thirty minutes after she tells me no, I quietly make my through her apartment, easily finding the bedroom. The apartment is laid out exactly the same as mine; a sunken in living room that gives way to a large master bedroom. I fling her door open. I've never been in her bedroom before, but it's clean and quiet, and she's sound asleep beneath the covers.

I come to a stop beside the bed. She's curled herself into a tiny little ball and her breathing is deep and slow. I contemplate waking her up, rudely yelling her name and shoving her until her eyes open. Grabbing her and pulling her to my room until her green eyes open up and she nods her surrender at me.

I'll show her.

No one tells me no. Ever.

Here in Dauntless I've proven just exactly how I deal with insubordination but Ivy will learn that first hand.

I shrug off my t-shirt and kick off my pants. I leave the boxer briefs on and push the covers back as I slide beside her. My hands find her throat, ready to tighten just enough to wake her, but I stop.

She isn't as warm as she normally is. In fact she's sort of clammy.

It throws me off. For a moment I stay there, trying to ignore the heavy discomfort that is spreading through my chest. There is something spineless about the sudden unease that has made its way through me

I've never needed anyone, nor have I cared for many. Ivy is no exception. I don't need to be close to her and I certainly don't need anything from her other than to fuck her when I want to. Yet here I am, limbs heavy with a sort of worry.

Fuck.

I give it all of a few seconds before I decide to get up and get out of here. I'm sure she'll be fine. She just needs to sleep it off. If I leave now, lvy will never know I was here, and no one other than me will have to deal with the hot humiliation burning through the air.

Before I can actively shove myself out her bed, she turns over. Her eyes open when her arm hits my thigh- jolting her awake. She looks up at me, her eyes bleary and dull. I feel sick suddenly, as though I've openly admitted defeat by being in here. But Ivy simply blinks sleepily.

"Are you staying?" She asks and I find myself shrugging.

"Ok." She doesn't push any further. I wait for her to shove herself into me; to curl her body against mine in search of the kind of contact she's been desperately seeking. But it doesn't happen. She closes her eyes and she falls back asleep, her arm eventually falling off my thigh and into the sheets.

I swallow.

I want out of her bed.

I feel as though my limbs are frozen, paralyzed with some sort of rage at her second dismissal and all I can do is sit here and internalize it. I close my eyes in an attempt to shut it out, to turn my brain off from all that I'm thinking. Sometime during all this I can feel myself recline back a bit until the rage subsides, lulled by the quiet room and Ivy's soft sighs.

It's late too late now.

 

 

She presses her cheek against mine, and I resist the urge to shove her the fuck off my lap. She's gasping as though it's hard to breathe, her hips slowly grinding against my own.

This isn't what I had planned.

I'd awoken in her bed to find myself curled around her. She was finally warm again, her skin hot from being pushed against mine. I tried to untangle myself from where I lie; my thigh was shoved between hers, my hands covering her own as though I dare cared about her. That small act made my stomach clench up; lovers lie this way together, I did not.

She woke up when I pulled away from her, her eyes falling to my retreating form and I was fucked before I knew what I was doing. The next thing I know she was pulling at me, yanking on me until she'd managed to work her way onto my lap, my hands under her shirt and skimming the sides of ribs. I knew her body well now; I had memorized each bone and curve, each pale stretch of her skin. I carefully slipped her shirt off her head and she straddled my lap again, the act more innocent that anything.

We were different this way; she sought out warmth and comfort from me, she needed to feel safe despite the fact that neither of us were promised tomorrow. I simply wanted to tear her apart, to take what I needed from her and not delve deeper into the meaning behind the way her fingers touched my lips.

I didn't enjoy being touched like this.

Her cheek against mine, her breasts pressed up against my chest, the way we seemed to work seamlessly together. She knew what I wanted and how I preferred her, yet here she was, pushing closer to me as though I wouldn't notice.

I sickeningly give in, despite the urge to hold her in place by her hair.

Instead of pushing her onto her knees and watching her head bow down, I snake my arm around her and crush her to me, tight enough that neither of us can breathe. She keeps moving and I try hard not to groan into her hair; the feeling of her – all of her- is almost agonizing. She wiggles again, searching for more friction and she raises her head up to look at me. Our eyes meet, and she sort of smiles when she stares at me.

I grit my teeth.

In a few weeks she will be gone. This war will end and she will return to her peace and harmony. She'll fall back into the arms of whoever is waiting for, and he'll hold her the way she wants. He'll beam up at her while she hovers above him, and he'll kiss her forehead before she falls asleep. I'll do neither, and she knows that. But this moment, this revoltingly horrifically raw moment between us, is enough to unnerve me. I swallow thickly and my fingers dig into the skin of her back hard enough to leave a mark.

She's covered in bruises and scrapes, but only certain ones spell out my work. I can tell mine from the others. The ones on her neck are especially prominent, my teeth tearing soft flesh as I came inside of her. I wonder if he'll know. If he'll examine her bare form when she returns. Will he lovingly pull her into their bed, undress her and try to make her feel better? Erase the memories of blood and death and the evidence of her and I.

I've come inside of her every time we've been together. Today I look at her before it happens, watching the way her eyes close and her head falls against mine. She says my name, always some sort of relieved gasp as though there is no one else that can make her feel like this. I try to keep my mouth shut, to focus on the clinical aspect of this. I've marked her inside and out. Today will be no different.

When I feel my stomach muscles clench together, something low and warm coiling inside of it, I close my eyes. I let myself feel her against me, her small form still burning against mine, and everything seems to happen all at once.

I say her name; I groan it into her hair and her hands hold onto me, luring me into nothingness.

 

 

She leaves a week later.

The disappointment is my stomach is sharp, but expected. I let myself feel it for a moment, allowing disgust to wash over me as I sit in our final meeting. The war is almost over and we've taken a slight reprieve and sent half of Amity back to Amity. Ivy included.

They're to recover in their home faction, and if we need them, we'll bring them back. But as it stands now, we should be able to hand the rest of the war with our own soldiers. Four sits beside Ivy and he's beaming at her, his face honestly joyful that she's been able to help lead us to this temporary victory. It'll be permanent soon enough, but the idea that this peaceful little creature convinced an entire violence despising faction to join us in battle is dumbfounding.

"You've been an important part of this Ivy. We couldn't have done it without you." Four tells her so earnestly that I half expect him to propose marriage to her. She smiles at him, almost embarrassed at his praise and I feel my eyes narrow.

 

 

I don't say goodbye to her when she finally leaves.

She walks out with Max and Four; Four carries her bag and Max keeps his hand on her shoulder. With great revulsion do realize neither of them have any idea that she'd spent almost every night beneath me, groaning my name as she came over and over. It's almost shameful how much I want her to turn around, to see her eyes one final time.

My urges towards her are no longer so violent in nature. But today I would willingly drag her by her hair back into my bedroom and hold her down forcefully until she agrees to stay with me and only me.

 

 

My sheets smell like her.

I exhale sharply at this stupid notion. It's very late or very early, and I can't sleep. All I can do is smell her and the idea is utterly ridiculous since they've been washed four times since she's left. I kick the covers away and press the heel of my palms into my eyes until another galaxy appears. I dislike the way I remember her. Like the very idea of her has been imprinted into my brain, burned and branded into the tissue.

I shake my head.

She was nothing more than something to do and I can find that here.

So I do.

The first girl is blonde and willing in the same way Ivy was willing to drop onto her knees for me, but this one is too tall. Her long legs mean her head is almost even with mine and the proportions are all wrong.

The second girl has dark red hair and she's too drunk to realize that I'm not personally interested in her. She tries to kiss me, her lips overly glossed and her eyes closing and I push her away hard enough that she hits her head against the wall. She rubs at it in a confused manner and I leave the hallway without ever saying a word.

The third girl almost does the trick. She's got dark brown hair, so dark it almost looks black, and while she's a shade too tan, she's small and little and her eyes widen in excitement when I drag her back to my room.

It doesn't work the minute I pull her too tight dress off. She looks up at me in the same soft way Ivy did, and that's when I lose it.

"Get out." I hiss at her and she looks confused. She hesitates for a second and I lose it.

"Now." The words are a dark roar and she grabs her dress and runs.

My fist hit the wall hard enough to feel the bones splinter but I don't care.

 

 

At the next meeting, Max decides we should thank Amity for their generous help in the war.

I can feel my jaw clench together, followed by the painful sensation of my teeth grinding down on top of each other. I've almost managed to push Ivy completely out of my mind. The past week she's been nothing more than a phantom, only slipping into my thoughts when it's too quiet or too still.

Somehow even mentioning the name Amity irritates some nerve in me, but the longer I think about it, the less I despise his plane. I like it when I imagine the look on her face when I walk through the door. The way her pretty features will fall into surprise, and the way I'll slam her up against the wall of her office until she can't say anything other than my name.

I'll make her sorry she left.

I volunteer to go and no one even thinks twice about it.

 

 

Amity is large and vast, their fields drying out under the incoming winter. It'll be here soon enough and they are largely prepared. I park the Dauntless truck next to their produce processing center and hop out. A few of the Amity members nod hello but the majority of them keep their heads down.

I march towards the wooden building where Johanna's office was. I can only assume Ivy has taken over the same office space so I stalk my way through the stables. I can hear voices coming from upstairs and my gaze lifts to the open space above the wooden beams. I glance at the large horses in the stables, pausing for mere seconds to touch the mane of the white one. She moves her head towards me, her dark eyes blinking at me as I let my hand fall away.

I stomp up the stairs, noting the way the voices seem to quiet and it's not until I reach the top step do I realize they are in some sort of unofficial meeting. It takes me a second to find Ivy, and when I do, I ignore the way my stomach drops as though I've absurdly made a mistake in coming here. The idea is abominable; I've made few mistakes in my life, and seeing her again will not be one of them.

She's sitting behind the large desk, her pale sundress exposing her bare shoulders and her hair is braided into some sort of crown around her head. Her green eyes find mine, widening as though she's seen a ghost. She smiles, her pink lips turning up as though she's slightly pleased by the sight in front of her. The men beside her stare at me in confusion, like knights around their queen, and finally the lone girl next to them speaks.

"Hello. Amity welcomes you. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Her words are a blatant recital. She's staring at me through honey colored hair, and she pulls at the shawl wrapped around her. I smirk at her, her round face eyeing me warily and her posture less friendly than her words.

"I'm not here on a social call. I'm here to bring a word of thanks to your leader." My eyes narrow as they fall on Ivy and she looks up at me with a forced neutral expression. The man beside her shifts uncomfortably, his hand falling to her shoulder.

He looks nothing remarkable. He's not nearly as tall as I am, his posture is startlingly passive and his hair is long and almost as dark as hers. My eyes land on his hand briefly then back to Ivy's. She looks almost deliciously guilty, as though I've caught her red handed. She stands suddenly and gently moves the two men away from her.

"Thank you all for your assistance today. I'll meet you later this evening." Her voice is soft but her words are dismissive, and the men share a quick glance before they nod and move to leave. The dark haired man hesitates, his stare lingering on me with an ounce of trepidation. I sneer at him.

I want to ask him if he knows Ivy likes it when you pull her hair just hard enough to hurt.

The girl stands to the side for a second, her eyes confirming with Ivy that she's also to leave.

"Thank you Aidy. I'll let Paul know how much of a help you were." Ivy's voice is calm, never betraying her surprise. She's surprisingly good; she plays it off as though my presence here is expected.

Aidy's face flushes and she smiles at Ivy before she heads down the creaky stairs. Ivy makes her way around the desk and comes to stand in front of me. I stare her up and down. Despite the cold weather she's barefoot, and her sundress is too flimsy for anything other than to be ripped apart by my hands.

"What are you doing here Eric?" She comes to a half in front of me, close enough that if anyone were still in the room, they'd know we'd shared something more than days on the battlefield together. Her fingers finds mine, the slight graze of them making my skin burn. "Do you need the men back?"

I smirk down at her, remembering the first time I decided I wanted her. "No. The war's almost over."

Ivy nods and I move quickly before she can speak. I pull her to me, my arms trapping her against me, one hand weaving into her hair and yanking until I've effectively ruined her braid. My lips find hers; the kiss is rough and demanding- the same way I liked to remember being with her. I don't give her the chance to breathe, I kiss her harder until her lips part open for me and I reach below her ass, picking her up and walking her back to the desk.

She stares up at me; large green eyes darkening as she watches my hands shove her skirt upwards and reach for my belt buckle.

"They're probably still downstairs Eric." Her words are a quiet unsure whisper. There's a larger part of her that isn't protesting, and I step forwards until I'm between her thighs.

"You better be quiet then."

She keeps quiet as I turn her around, she barely makes a peep until I spread her legs apart and slide between them. I enter her easily, she's slick and ready for me, and the thought sends a spark of accomplishment through me. She wants this just as badly as I do, maybe more so.

She groans my name and it sounds soft and warm and everything I've forced myself to forget rushes back to me.

 

 

Her living quarters are large and lofty.

I'm surprised the Amity don't mind that she lives in this space while the rest of them camp out in communal sleeping areas. Maybe they don't give a shit. It's easy to be a hippy dippy free for all when you're all in the same room, blissfully drugged out.

But Ivy's room is full of large glass walls, soft white curtains, and even softer white bedding. I roll my eyes when I sink into it. Her bed is large and plush and my black clothing seems nothing short of demonic against her snowy sheets. She watches me carefully, as though I don't belong in her bed, but then again- I don't.

"I'll be right back." She tells me quietly, and she moves to close the large curtains except for one with a view of the lake. It seems to glitter ominously from here, dark waves crashing against the shore as the wind picks up. She disappears into the bathroom and I take a second to inventory her room.

There's a large dark wooden dresser on one wall and a fire place on the other. There's nothing overly personal in here, and I'm oddly reminded of my own apartment. I idly wonder about her family, if they are here or in another faction.

Ivy appears before I can think about it too much more and she's changed into some sort of soft, all too delicate night gown. The nearly sheer fabric looks easily like it could be easily shredded, and I prop myself upon my elbows to stare at her. She hasn't changed for me. The nightgown is nothing remotely seductive; in fact it's slightly too large and too long for her. But she makes her way towards the bed, crawling next to me until she rests on her knees beside me.

"Why are you really here?" Her eyes find mine, and I have to pretend that she doesn't look pretty. Her hair has been unwoven from her head and it's long and wavy. She looks happy again, her face bright and her eyes sparkling at me. "Did you come to see me?"

I find myself wanting to crush that spark of hope in her, to tell her to shut up and take her pajamas off and kneel before me but I can't bring myself to. I've already had her once; bent her over her desk with my hand clamped over her mouth, but it's not enough. I want her here. I want to ruin her in her own sheets so when she tries to sleep at night all she can think of is me.

So I don't answer her. My lips move to form a scowl, but I wasn't quite planning on her sliding onto my lap, her fingers gently tugging at the bottom of my shirt. I don't stop her when she slides it up and I squirm out of it. For once I'm more naked than she is, and her eyes fall to the fading bruise on my chest. She touches it lightly; her fingers barely pressing and I nearly hiss at the contact of her fingers on my skin.

"What happened?" Her concern is both welcome and annoying.

"Happened in battle. It's fine." I shrug it off but she frowns and moves closer to me. Her bravery is admirable; not many have tried to undress me and rarely does anyone touch me without permission. Her fingers stroke over it again, then along my collarbone. "What are you doing?" I ask her, my voice low. If she wants to fuck me then fine, but I don't want to spend the night with her examining every inch of my skin.

She shakes her head and me and she smiles, the same sort of smile she gave me before I blurted out her name. "I've missed how warm you are."

I blink at her, and I'm wholly unprepared for when she leans down and presses her lips to mine. I should end this now, for we are skating towards dangerous territory on her part. She knows I don't do this, not this sweetly gentle, middle of the night confession and kiss ordeal. But I don't stop her, instead I push myself upwards until I can reach around her, furiously yanking her closer.

If she's going to miss me, then I might as well make it memorable. I move to push her off me, to take back control of this, but she shakes her head. "Just this once. I know you'll leave after." Her words are an achy whisper and I feel myself growing hot at her request. How dare she. But I nod silently, and move until she is beneath me.

"Does your boyfriend know? Does he know what you did with me?" I ask her as I hurriedly pull the nightgown off of her. My pants follow and I watch her as I kick them to the side.

Surprise unfurls in me when she nods her head yes. "I told him some things happened, but he doesn't know it was you. He might now. He was next to me when you came in today." She reaches for me, hands looping behind my neck and she swallows. "I tried to explain that I just…I just needed to not think about all the fighting. All the blood and my brother…" She trails off as my mouth finds her neck, sucking the flawless skin until the blood blossoms beneath it. "He forgave me." Her last words are a tiny groan, and I bite down hard.

He loves her, I think.

I wonder if he would love her now. Her legs around my waist, her head thrown back to allow me better access to her, her hips desperately pushing against my own.

Will he love her when I'm done with her? When her skin is littered with evidence of my presence, and her legs are wobbly hours later. When she smells like me, when her cheeks raw from the scrape of my stubble against her fair skin, and there's a bite mark that fits my incisors.

Will he love her when he realizes I've ruined her, that I can't stand the thought of his hands anywhere near her and I won't stop until she can't either. That I've given her enough to make her want only me, to want to hold herself against me even though I'll never let her in that close.

Will he still love her even though she's willing to hurt him when he's somewhere on this same compound right now, as I slide in and out of her, hard and swollen and ready to come inside of her.

Ivy arches herself closer, her legs wrapped somewhere around my waist to hold me in place. She says my name again and again, so sweetly whispered that it almost makes my stomach hurt. It's not long before I feel her whole body tense up; she tightens around me, the action nearly sending me over the edge.

It's not more than a few thrusts inside her before I say her name for the second time, only solidifying to myself that she's mine.

She keeps her arms around me, holding me against her as I move slightly until I'm only halfway over her. I don't want to suffocate her, but I don't want to move. I look over at her through a deliciously sated gaze and I grin stupidly.

He'll know the minute he sees her.

Her lips are swollen and wet, her neck now baring fresh marks from me, and her hair tangled where I've knotted my fingers in it. Her eyes are warm, swirling with something less than lust. Even tomorrow when everything has calmed down, when I slip away from this place, he'll know.

She's not his, and she hasn't been since the minute she set foot in Dauntless.

 

 

The frustration makes me feel off center, but it's easily remedied by beating the shit out of the initiates.

The kid before me is nothing but a young punk, no older than sixteen, no bigger than any of the others who've chosen this life. I watch him spit his own blood, his eyes unsteady and his head dropping to the side. My arm reaches back, ready to beat him into unconsciousness, my own self almost disturbingly jealous that he'll have a reprieve from feeling anything for the next few hours. But I'm stopped by Four and a few others from the class, their eyes terrified at my rage. Four manages to grasp my throat, and I tear at him like some sort of feral animal.

She's done this to me, and the hurt of not seeing her is so sharply acute it might as well be glass under my skin. I've never loved anyone and I certainly don't love Ivy. But the absence of her is enough to make me think that I might have been erroneous in my ways. I didn't ruin her, I merely ruined myself and I'm about to ruin everything just a little bit more with my next punch.

I lower my arm, attempting to swallow despite Four's awkward grasp, and I feel the rage subside just the tiniest bit. It leaves my skin feeling hot and raw, and it matches my insides. Four must be some sort of empath; he notes the change immediately and he uses it to his advantage.

"Class dismissed. Someone take Keller to the infirmary."

He doesn't let go of my throat until the last person is gone. When his fingers leave my windpipe I stretch my neck and stare him down. He straightens his shoulders, and his posture tells me he's not afraid to come after me.

"Go see her if that's what you need. But murdering an initiate isn't going to bring her back here."

I stare at him while the feeling of nausea washes over me.

 

 

She frowns at me.

Ivy's face is nothing but pretty, even when it's twisted into a look of bewilderment.

"What happened to your neck?" Her fingers touch my skin gently, and I have to work at staying very still so I don't jerk away from her. They trace over the mark from Four's grip, touching the bruised splotches that seem to streak between the black blocks. She stares at me, her eyes large and more green than normal. "Did someone do this?"

Having someone care what happened to me is not something I'm used to, nor do I like it. I shrug at her, unable and unwilling to tell her what happened. Would she find it appropriate that I'd gone mad, lost myself on an initiate who simply wanted to best me in front of the class.

"It's nothing." I shrug at her, reclining back against her sheets.

She hadn't looked surprised when I'd shown up. I'd taken another truck, signing out under the guise of checking on the war torn soldiers' recovery, and no one had given two shits. I could come and go as I pleased, and that sudden remembrance had made my hands relax the tiniest bit.

I'd found her in her office, dutifully signing off on some papers that could wait till later. I hadn't given her much time to react. I'd stormed over to her, her head suddenly moving upright and her lips parting pleasantly. It had taken seconds for her to rise up, her lips crashing against mine in a frantic way that revealed everything to me. I'd torn myself apart from her and roughly dragged her towards her home.

Now she's between my legs, her hair pooling between my thighs.

Her mouth is warm and wet when she takes the head of me in easily, and the feeling of her mouth is familiar.

My hand finds her hair, pressing her where I want her. She responds the way I like, immediately and without any resistance. It's obvious I've trained her well. I can feel her working her way up and down my length; this isn't the first time she'd done this, and it won't be the last. It's not long before I pull her up to me, her lips still wet.

"Get on your knees."

I don't love her, and but the feeling is starting to become rather unpleasant.

 

 

When the sun rises, she is beneath me, her hands in my hair as I lick the inside of her thigh. I want to bruise her skin here; it is soft and delicate and I'm pleased at the way it marks easily.

His name is Jax.

Her boyfriend of sorts.

I ask her, in between my work, if he's fucked her lately. She doesn't flinch at my words, but she shakes her head all while her fingers tighten in my hair.

"Only once since I came back." Her words surprise me, and I peer up at her, enjoying the way her chest is arced upwards. She's squirming, desperate for me to continue. "I couldn't. Not after you."

I am pleased.

I move my mouth where she wants it, wondering if she knows I've done this for a select few. I like the way she sounds as I stroke my tongue upwards, flat against her until she reacts the way I want her to. I like the way her legs tighten around me, and after a few minutes, the way she's desperately close to coming against my face.

I could take her back to Dauntless with me. Make her stay quiet until night falls and no one is around to hear her groan my name. She wouldn't protest. Not after this.

"Why didn't he sign up to fight?" I take my mouth off her and she whines, the same way she'd whine when I pulled out of her or made her wait until I'd decided she should come.

"He doesn't believe in war." She mumbles as her fingers tighten painfully in my hair. I should knock them away for her actions. Instead I snort against her as push myself up, working my way until I find her collarbone.

"How Amity of him." I mutter, making my way to her lips.

I've never enjoyed kissing anyone. Mouths were better suited for other uses. But I like kissing her; I like the way she responds beneath me, her whole body pressing into mine and her fingers on my neck. I like her wanting, her needy pull at me.

I enter her sharply, wanting to remind her who's in charge here. I may have come back to see her, to push her into her own bed and listen to the sounds of her come apart, but it's on my terms.

I leave with her hands holding onto mine, her grip tight.

She doesn't want me to go and I've accomplished my mission. She looks up at me with large eyes, eyes that plead for me to drag her back to bed and force her down until she says my name. I've torn her apart just enough that now only thing that feels good is me.

I turn to look at her one final time, my lips curling up at her in some sort of sneer.

She's nothing more than anyone else who's ever fallen into bed with me, so it shouldn't feel this shitty to wrench my hand away from her.

 

 

I pin the man down by the throat, relishing the way his eyes darken for a split second. He's lucky in a way. That fleeting moment between life and death, where your whole world swings perilously, dizzyingly as everything blurs and softens, is the nothing more than a gift before the blackness.

He squirms one last time but his movements are weakening as my fingers crush his windpipe.

He's Divergent; nothing more than another error in the system.

I watch as the life fades from his eyes, as he just before slips into a final unconsciousness I remove my hand. He gasps awake, oxygen rushing into starving lungs. Jax gasps for a few moments and struggles to sit up.

I smirk at him as I rise up, leaving him on the ground.

He's nodded his agreement. I'll let him live and he'll never go near Ivy again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So apologies, this isn't updated as often as The Training, but I swear I haven't forgotten about it! It still haunts my dreams, lol.

I stare at the names on my list.

Kevin.

Alicia.

Paul.

Damon.

Camille.

_Tris._

I grin, my eyes narrowing down the list I've neatly typed up.

It's easier this way.

I will find them, I will hunt them down, and I will rip them apart, limb from limb, until they are no longer a threat to the system. I'll then make another list, neatly typing up the names of the deceased and I'll hand it over to Jeanine.

I won't think about Ivy.

This is a much more productive use of my time.

 

 

The next time I see her, her long hair falling around her shoulders and her lips parted in horror, is when the Dauntless army shows up at Amity, on the pursuit of Tris and Four. The fuckers seem to think that divergence is alright; they've fled Dauntless sometime the night before, taking along several files and more than several armfuls of guns and knives.

It's amusing to me that they think that's enough protection. I could easily take them both out with just my bare hands, but this will make for an interesting fight.

I try not to smirk; thinking of the way Tris' neck will snap when I grasp it in my hands and jerk it to the side. I toy with the idea of letting her try to explain to me why she ran; letting her verbalize her stupid plan just long enough to give her hope.

Their thinking is flawed, all of them. It's flawed in the same way that the Amity will help to shield them from the truth of their worthlessness under the guise of peace. You either fit into the system or you don't. There's no in between, and time has run out for those that think it has.

I make my way through Amity as though I am possessed by something other than my own thoughts. I feel hot all over, filled with rage and the intent to kill those that I've been assigned to track down. I keep my face steeled in its normal snarl, my shoulders back and I stop in front of their elected leader, her entire posture giving way to her raw fear.

My lungs tighten, a sharp reflex that I can't force to stop.

I don't like her like this.

I want to sneer at her, to shove her out of my way and into something, and force her to offer up the whereabouts of the fugitives. I could make her talk, easily. I know exactly how hard I could press upon the hinge in her jaw before she'd squeak with pain and she'd spill what I needed.

Instead I freeze before her, my entire body tensing up at the look on her face.

Her green eyes are large and terrified, and for the first time since I've ever known her, she looks petrified of me.

It shouldn't matter, but in this painfully still moment, it does.

 

 

"Do you have to?" Her words are a quiet whisper, stuck somewhere in her throat. She's taken a full step back from me, and for some reason the action makes my insides burn and my hands clench together. I would never hurt her, not in the way that I'd like to hurt those I came for.

For a moment I sigh in heavy exasperation, letting my shoulders fall. Every muscle in my body unexpectedly feels heavy now. Ivy stares at me, her lips turned down and her hands fidgeting.

"You've seen worse than what's about to happen here. You need to stay out of it. Don't pick a side, Ivy." I warn her. My words sound cold, disconnected from the situation. Orders are orders, and I've been sent to fulfill mine. The same way she's been assigned to oversee this joke of a faction, I'm responsible for the safety of this entire fucking city. Starting with the threat that's currently hiding in these fields.

She shakes her head slightly and doesn't meet my stare.

The anger floods my veins unwillingly, furious and heated.

I can't exactly pinpoint why, but her hesitation is pissing me off. This matter doesn't entirely concern her, but her cooperation would be much preferred to her hesitation. She looks almost personally wounded, and I have half a mind to remind her that this isn't about her.

She finally takes a step towards me until she's in front of me, her head bowed down. "Eric." Ivy pauses before she looks up at me. "Please, just don't hurt anyone." Her fingers slowly touch my hands, hands that have hurt too many than I care to remember. She curls hers into mine, small slender fingers entwining with my own.

"No." I go to jerk them away, knowing full well that she thinks she can stop me just by holding my hand. It doesn't work that way. She doesn't have that sort of power of me. She jerks forward with them, stumbling for a second before she hits my chest.

"Let go." I hiss at her, but my words are betrayed by the fact that I'm the one that's still holding on to her. Instead we stand there, Ivy staring up at me with our hands together.

"They're leaving, Eric. They don't want to stay here. They want to go beyond the fence." Her words are urgent, and she tightens her grip. "You don't need to go after them."

She looks hopeful, her stare now earnest. "Stay here. With me. Let them go."

She looks up at me and her eyes are still soft, almost hopeful.

I feel sick suddenly- dizzyingly, hotly, woefully ill.

 

 

There is a city beyond the wall.

Ivy tells me about it while she wipes my forehead off with a cold towel. She's somehow convinced me to drink some sort of tea, even with my threat to kill her if it contained one drop of peace serum. I'd warned her, through a feverish haze, that if she thought she could pull one over on me, she was wrong. She'd wish I killed her. But she'd looked at me with infinite patience, holding up the cup in my direction.

"It'll help your fever." She whispered.

I don't remember falling into her bed, against her too white sheets, or the moment when I decided closing my eyes would be a good idea.

Tris can wait. I'll just give her a head start.

 

 

"No, not till your fever is gone, Eric." Ivy says my name as my hands reach for her side, trying to yank the soft fabric of her shirt up. I find myself making an unpleasant sort of sound. Her concern does little to pacify my need to touch her, in fact it only spurs me on.

If she cares so fucking much, then she'll gladly undress in the next few minutes.

Instead she presses cold palms to my forehead and settles herself to the side of me.

"You're still too warm." She tells me, her brows knitting inwards with worry. It's been three days since I showed up at Amity with the intent to hunt down the Divergents. Instead I found myself delirious with an unpleasantly high temperature, stuck here until it was something more normal.

"Take your shirt off." I grit my teeth at her. I've had enough of this. Three nights of sleeping beside her because my presence in their poor excuse for an infirmary would cause quite the disruption. Three nights of her warm little self, pressed up against me, trying to stay far enough away as to not further my fever. Three nights of waking up with my head on her chest, my arm over the soft skin of her stomach, my whole body needily shoved up against hers.

It was disgusting; revolting on every level possible.

I narrow my eyes at her and she shakes her head.

I grow hot enough that I might combust in this moment.

"I said take your shirt off. Are you deaf?" I snap. I move towards her the best I can, but in my delirium, I'm about as fast as one of the first cut initiates.

"No, I'm not deaf. But I'm not taking my shirt off. I've got a meeting in half an hour, and I'm sure everyone else will be dressed." She says her words evenly, with a tiny bit of humor behind them. It's unexpected, really. But I can only glare at her, feeling worse now that I know she's leaving.

"Fuck your meeting. They can decide how many goats to keep without you."

Ivy stares at me, and she bites her lip. The action makes me want her closer to me, close enough that I can press my own lips to hers, biting at her myself. She shakes her head.

"Is that all you think I do?" She sounds younger now, and I reminded of the girl who showed up in front of my door holding a list of the dead in her hands. "You know, you and I are equals. We're both leaders in our factions."

She says her words gently, but I sneer at her. "It's hardly the same position."

She looks at me with her large eyes, and I feel my stomach knot up. I try to ignore it. She's an idiot if she thinks she and I are on the same level.

She doesn't say anything else before she leaves, and I feel like shit for reasons I don't want to think about.

 

 

"Ivy."

I say her name quietly, and my lips are in her hair.

She came back from her meeting, and I was still in her bed. I didn't want to tell her that I'd lie there contemplating walking out, back to Dauntless, just so the grossly raw sensation of remorse would die down. The feeling had left me inside out, uneasy as ever.

But I'd stayed.

And she'd come back.

Her eyes stayed on me as she made her way to her bed. I'd taken up most of it, my body a large presence of anger and confusion amongst the white bedding. She slipped in beside me, her hands pressing against my cheeks.

She smiled at me, the same way she always had, and I tried hard to tear my eyes away from hers. It was becoming more of a battle to disconnect myself from her. I'd grossly underestimated my intent with her. I'd never intended for this to be anything more than a part of the war that had raged on.

Satisfied that her magical tea had worked, and my temperature was no longer something of worry, she'd curled herself into me. It was familiar; her small form against mine, head in my neck and her leg slipping between mine. She knew I didn't like this, but she was smarter than I'd given her credit for.

The apology must have been all over my face, and while I could brush it off as part of my fever, she knew better, and she was using it to her advantage.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asks me. Her hand is trailing over my collarbone, her fingers touching skin that's been invisibly branded by her. Unlike my own actions, she's left no mark on me, yet she might as well have.

"Kind of." I mutter, mostly into her black hair. Her fingers curl into my skin, and she smells like something sweet and floral.

I must fall asleep again, because I wake up to a sunrise, and Ivy is pulling her nightgown off.

 

 

She's warm and soft, and this time, I want her worse than ever.

I hold her down beneath me, one of her arms stretched up and around my back, and one of my hands holding her waist. My hips work easily against hers. The feeling of Ivy is one that I am now well versed in. I thrust harder until she gasps my name, and her small body arches up towards mine.

"Say it. Say you will." I hiss at her. I try to resists yanking her head to look at me. Her eyes are already on mine, and her lips are parted slightly. I stare down at her, taking a lazy moment to enjoy this. I relish in the small sounds of us together; the sound of her bedsheets being shoved around, the way our skin hits together, Ivy's tiny soft gasps of my name mixed with the low growl that comes from my throat.

I move to grasp her by the throat, my fingers slipping around the column of her neck, attempting to force the words out of her.

She shakes her head ever so slightly, an infuriating dismissal.

There's no reason she can't come back to Dauntless with me, and she should know better than to tell me no.

 

 

On Wednesday, I've been back in Dauntless for a whole day before Jeanine wants to know what happened to Tris and Four. I e-mail her back, explaining that they've fled beyond the wall, scared for their own lives. She isn't pleased, but she isn't displeased. They are not much more than a boring threat to her. She knows they'll perish before long, and I listen to her brittle laugh when she talks about the city.

I've never been past the wall, so I don't laugh with her.

 

 

On Friday Max kidnaps Ivy for me.

It's necessary, really.

He wants some of her men back, but only the best ones, for his new mission. He knows that she'll be reluctant to let him use specific ones, especially since I'd handed him a list of names, including one very new addition.

Jax will do just fine so long as he listens to everything he's told to do.

I wait impatiently, pacing back and forth in my office, trying to decide what I'll do to her first. I can't decide what sound most appealing, taking her in my office, perhaps letting her sit atop my lap while I thrust up into her, or dragging her back to my apartment and holding her down while I tear her clothes off.

She'd declined Max's email asking for help, stating that her men were needed in the fields. It was a cute excuse, one that no one believed less than me.

"Just go get her. I'll make her agree to whatever you need." I had told him, smirking from behind my computer. Max had sort of smiled, and rolled his eyes. He's caught wind of what had gone on between Ivy and I, and it was easy for him to connect the dots. After all, I'd willingly volunteered to go to Amity, twice. Had he paid more attention, he'd have noticed that slip up.

Max had his reasons for offering to bring her to me. I knew damn well he'd hold this over me at some point. There'd come a time when he'd need something, or this could be thrown in my face.

So he went with my plan. He knew I could make her do what I wanted, and right now he wanted her help.

"Fine." He hadn't asked anymore questions and he'd left less than hour later, pleased that he'd have his men.

I watch the clock carefully, knowing she'll be here soon.

 

 

She's furious, as furious as one from Amity can be.

"You had me brought here? For what?" She spits the words crossly, perched atop my bed. She looks pretty, even in her frustration. Her cheeks are flushed and pink, and her eyes are flashing at me. They look bright today, and they almost match the green skirt she's got on. I eye her carefully, trying to soak in the details of her.

"I'm not giving you the men you want. And you put Jax's name on that list knowing full well that…"

I don't let her talk anymore. I reach forward, my hand squeezing her jaw until she stops and stares up at me, struggling slightly.

"You'll give us the men. And your precious boyfriend will be fine so long as he does what he's told." I raise an eyebrow at her and she glares at me before she jerks her head out of my grasp.

"Leave me alone." She snaps, the tone surprising for her. She stands up suddenly, pulling her spine straight until she's staring up at me. "You think you can just take whatever you want…" She doesn't finish her sentence because I reach for her, hands gripping her roughly and jerking her against me, and I crush my lips to hers.

"You're mine. You'll do well to remember that." I tell her, my words startlingly breathless. My lungs hurt suddenly, aching with the need to consume her. I don't have time for her sudden burst of bravery, or the spontaneous growth of her backbone.

Her eyes widen, the anger slowly subsiding. "I can't do this." She tells me, trying to push me away. "I can't keep being with you and then watching you leave."

Her words startle me, not because I know that they are true- she's never been one to hide her feelings, but because my own are starting to follow suit. It's started to become nearly impossible to walk away from her, and the days that follow are filled with nothing but an almost overwhelming shameful desire to seek her out.

"I told you I'd keep you here." I point out. I stare down at her, my fingers curling into her skin. Her top is fitted, a dark black tank top of sorts and her bare skin is far too easily exposed in it. I swallow thickly, pulling her back against me. "No one will care that you stay here. You already have a replacement in Amity. They'll gladly step in." It's all I tell her before I crush my lips against hers, faintly remembering a time when we stood in the hallway, and I sealed my fate by kissing her.

One of my hands grips into her hair, and the other holds her lower back so she's flush against me. I walk her back half a step, the back of her knees bumping the large bed. "There's nothing keeping you there." I tell her, in between the moments my mouth is on hers. She shakes her head, and I don't bother to care which statement it answers.

I let go of her for a moment, knowing full well she won't go anywhere, and I'm pleased when she stays still. I tug the bottom of her shirt up, exposing her bare stomach and sliding it up until I can throw it aside. She looks up at me as my fingers find the waist band of her skirt and I shove it down. She kicks it aside easily, and she's left before me in nothing but her bra and underwear.

I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me. In all our nights together I'd memorized her body well, but there's something surreal about seeing her like this, her skin burning before me.

"How would my absence be explained?" Her hands reach for my shirt, and I let her undo the buttons one by one. She's slow, and I know it's on purpose. "Wouldn't they ask where I've gone off to?" She reaches the top button and she slowly pushes the shirt open, pushing it off my shoulders. I smirk at her, hotly pleased that she would even consider leaving to stay here with me.

Even if her words are in jest, it's obvious she's at least entertained the idea.

"I'll tell them you were in an accident. And they have my utmost sympathy." I say the words almost gleefully, and she reaches for the button on my pants. "They'll understand. You can't tell me you didn't think as to why Johanna so easily stepped down? That she knew she would be readily replaced." She lowers my zipper, her hands not stilling even though I can see the flicker of curiosity on her face.

Ivy stares up me, her eyes warm and lovely.

"Show me." She tells me, and I step out of my pants. My boots are kicked off easily, and we stand staring at each other, both dressed in nothing but underwear.

"Show you what?" I ask her, my stare holding her eyes. "That they won't care? They don't. How many of them came charging after you when Max marched you to his truck?"

She averts her stare for a second before she looks up at me through her eyelashes. "Show me why I should stay here. With you."

Anger flushes through me out of nowhere. She's toying with me, trying to prompt something from me that she doesn't deserve.

Her hands find my side, slipping up my ribs and stopping to rest on my chest. "Are you afraid?" She asks and I resist the urge to strangle her. "You want me to stay, yet you don't want me to get close to you."

Her words knick at me, as though she's armed herself with her my very own thoughts and voicing them out loud makes them shaper. She's right, in a way. I want her to stay, something horrible and ugly and terribly desperate. I want her beneath me, my dick buried far inside her while I groaned her name. I want her on top of me, her hands wrapped around my neck but only to her me close to her, her lips sweetly pressed against mine. I want it all but I mostly want her.

She doesn't make too much noise when I push her back onto the bed, my body climbing atop of hers. She's still small and little, her tiny frame dwarfed beneath me.

"Alright. I'll let you get close if you stay." My words are an unfair promise, but it doesn't matter.

I've already decided she's not going home.

 

 

She agrees to send her men, including Jax, the fourth time she groans my name.

It's mostly a gasp really; a wearily exhausted bone shattered gasp. She's writing atop of me, her limbs boneless and her skin pink. We've been at this for hours now, and her body is close to collapsing from out of exhaustion.

"Yes. You can have them. Just… Eric… please." Her words are watery; she's so close to losing it that she can barely think, and her hips are grinding into mine at her own frantic pace. She's said my name every time she's come tonight, and tonight will be the one that pushes her over the edge. She's whimpering at me, her eyes slipping closed every few seconds.

"And you'll stay here. With me." I hiss, moving my own to meet hers. The feeling is intense, she's so slippery and wet, and her thighs are sticky against my own. I'm all over her in more way than one. I tighten my hold on her, one arm around her waist and one hand covering her throat.

"Good." I sort of groan the words, almost unable to form a coherent thought. Everything has grown warm, burning red and I swear my vision nearly blurs as my whole body seems to tense up. Ivy shifts slightly, and it's all she needs before she seems to weep my name, her whole self pitching forward to slump against me.

I don't last any longer, and I claim her in the same way I've claimed her every night we've been together.

 

 

She sends the e-mail from my laptop.

She'd made zero attempt to crawl out from beneath me this morning. I'd watched her eyes open, lazily falling onto me. I could see the moment she remembered what she'd promised, the way her green eyes seemed to widen with awareness. She'd promised me not only her men, but herself.

The manipulation had easy on my part. Motivated by more than just the need for her stupid men, I'd found it easy to get what I wanted. Max would get his help with his newest project, and I would get Ivy, the way I wanted her.

Now she sits perched upon my lap, her nearly bare skin warm against mine. She's pulled my shirt over her head, and I rather enjoy the feel of her naked legs against mine.

She types her e-mail out rather slowly, and I have to bite back my impatience. While not huge on technology, Amity used several rather advanced versions with their farming. I'd seen the intricate systems while on some forced visit. I'd seen her type faster than this, but I know she's choosing her words carefully.

_We will willingly help Dauntless by whatever means necessary. It is an honor to have our assistance asked for in such matters. The following men please submit yourself by noon tomorrow. You will find Max waiting for you with transportation. Your expected commitment time is one week, pending completion of the project._

She continues typing, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

I keep one arm around her waist, and the other one creeps up beneath her shirt. I trail along warm skin, counting upwards until I reach the bottom of her ribcage. She inhales sharply as my fingers work up higher, grazing the side of breast.

Her head lolls back against mine and my hand works upwards, curling my fingers into her.

She's mine now.

I've won this war.

"You know this won't work, right?" She says the words hesitantly, arching herself back into me. I can feel her feet hook behind my calves, anchoring herself to me. "I'll have to go back eventually."

My nails dig into her skin, and I can feel myself press towards her.

"You'll stay here until I say otherwise."

Ivy doesn't say anything. She's already hit send on the e-mail to her assistant, and they'll have less than twenty four hours to pony up their men. I released my grip on her, knowing full well she'll have a mark there, and I slide it down until I graze past her hipbone and into the soft skin of her thigh.

She sighs my name, and I grin.

She's wrong. She won't go back. Not if I have anything to do with it.

 

 

I pay little attention to the men.

Jax is there; his dark hair has been forced back and out of his face, his features coerced into a grimace of compliance. They've been gifted temporary uniforms, and some of them look slightly excited to be marching alongside Max. He's taking them into the city, into the darkest corners to seek out a few of the Factionless that have let it slip that there's a rebellion going on, right beneath our noses.

I should be going with them.

I excel at this sort of thing; I have little remorse for those who don't do what they're told, and even less regard for those who think they know more than anyone else. It would be easy for me to gun them down, to bend their limbs until I hear the hidden bone crack, and to mockingly frown as I force them to kneel.

Well, I did excel at it.

At one point in time, it was what my hands ached to do. Hurting others seemed to stop the burning itch in my hands. It numbed the violent rise inside of me, pacifying something that was inherently more self destructive.

But now, they are busied by other things.

They hold Ivy not so much in place, but against me, her lips pressing against mine and her hands in my hair. They roam over the expanse of her skin, lazily making their way over the slope of her shoulders and the ridge of her spine. They tangle in her hair, pulling rougher than necessary until she emits a satisfied sigh.

The find the slickest part of her, between her legs, working until she says my name on an endless stream of content gasps.

I'm busied now, lost in other things more important to me.

Ivy kisses me harder, her lips parting to let me bite at her.

I grin against her mouth, my mind whirling. I've already mentally written a letter to her second in command. I've drafted out the sharply eloquent words I'll send to them, along with a phony offer of assistance in their time of need.

Maybe I'll even hand write it, if I have time.

_We are deeply sorry for your loss of Ivy. We send our deepest regrets._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this probably looks like I'm updating everything BUT The Training, but I swear that's not the case. This has been on my old laptop, and I've been meaning to post the rest of this. So if you are still reading this story, there are only a few more chapters left to go. 
> 
>  
> 
> And yes, The Training will be updated really soon. Promise!

Amity gets a new leader on Friday.

The announcement comes in the form of an e-mail, and I go over it several times, reading between the lines of the carefully worded message. The new leader, elected by the members of Amity, will take over effective immediately.

I find myself smiling over the cool glow from my phone.

Ivy is fast asleep next to me, her dark hair splayed across the pillow, and her naked body warm beneath my sheets.

 

She's been here a week before I realize I've made a mistake.

Well, not so much a mistake, as an error in the fact that I let her stay in Amity as long as I did. It's surprising, a funny feeling in my stomach whenever my eyes land on her, a tightening so intense that sometimes it makes me stop in my tracks. She doesn't notice, or maybe she does, but she's sidetracked here.

I keep her occupied with my own sort of tasks for her to do, since she's so on par with my leadership skills. She dutifully responds to e-mails for me, though in a tone noticeably much nicer than I would, and she organizes my daily schedule with a practiced skill. She's startlingly good at balancing the Dauntless budgets, and I reward her by biting her neck, teeth nipping into her skin as she sighs against me.

"You're distracting me." She says the words in a scolding manner, and I bite down, harder until she yelps. She's learned quickly to watch her tone, but sometimes I don't mind. It sends a warm thrill through me when she tries to get snippy. It only proves she's not quite as Amity as she thinks she is.

"You'll have to learn how to focus better." I say the words against her skin, ignoring the fact she smells good- somehow the same lavender scent that she smelled like when I saw her in Amity, and I move until I can kiss below her ear. She predictably squirms, her slender fingers now digging into the fabric of my pants.

"I won't finish if you don't stop." She whispers, but it's spineless. I've got her exactly like I want her; warm and lush against me, her bones softening as she melts against me.

"I'll make sure you finish." I smirk the words as I find her waist, adjusting her further back against me.

I don't know if she ever finishes her little project, but I don't really care.

 

Their new leaders name is Grandon, and I squint at him, wondering if he knows his name sounds like a granola bar. He's tall and thin, older than Ivy by at least thirty years, and he wears a pair of overalls to his first meeting.

I recline back in my chair with eyebrow raised at him in disbelief. While Ivy had never looked like she was old enough to even have chosen a faction, Grandon looks like he's spent his whole life on the farm. He's glancing around the room with an optimistically bright smile, and he shoves the thin wire frames of his glasses up higher.

"Hello." He greets Jack carefully, as though he's been hurriedly training on proper meeting etiquette. Jack's reaction is amusing; he glances at Grandon twice before he speaks.

"Where's Ivy?" Jack asks him, his gaze direct. Jack doesn't typically bother with forced formalities and today is no exception. I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn't think too highly of Grandon.

I cock my head at him.

I can't wait for his answer.

I watch Grandon carefully, and his whole face tightens up in despair.

"She was in an accident." He answers his voice legitimately heartfelt. "All of Amity is in mourning. We miss her terribly. She had a presence about her." He shakes his head, and lowers his eyes. "She was far too young to suffer such a terrible fate."

I try not to snort.

Max shoots me a dirty look and I let out a bark of laughter. "Sorry." I flash Grandon a cold smile. "We'll certainly miss seeing Ivy around here. She was so ambitious."

Max rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the papers in front of him. I can tell he's biting his cheek to keep his expression neutral, and he blinks hard when Grandon shifts uncomfortably.

Grandon finally looks over to me, and he throws me the darkest look he dare muster. Since he's probably highly stoned on peace serum, he comes off looking more mildly inconvenienced than irritated at my lack of concern. I can tell her doesn't appreciate my flippancy, and how I want to laugh in his face. I idly wonder how he would react to know Ivy is alive and well in my apartment, currently taking a nap.

"It's wonderful how easily you stepped into her position." I throw out the words casually, toying with the pen in my hands.

Grandon predictably flinches.

"Eric." Max says my name warningly, and I try to look sympathetic. I doubt it works. "We're sorry for your loss."

Grandon doesn't answer. He eyes me warily, and something tells me he won't forget me.

Good.

 

Ivy bites her lip, her head tilted back and her eyes shut.

"You're so beautiful." I trail my mouth up her throat, her pale skin still pink from our last night together. The words have been spilling out of my mouth much faster and easier than ever. The compliments fall from my lips effortlessly, the words pulled from deep down within me. I've never been so openly complimentary towards her, but it's useless to try to stop it.

"You're mine," I tell her, one of my hands holding her back, keeping her just where I want her. She's seated atop of me, hot and wet and so slick that my vision starts to blur together. I can tell it's hard for her to stay still; she squirms furiously, her thighs shaking and her nails digging into my back. "You're mine forever."

"Eric." She groans my softly, widening her legs the tiniest bit, urging me closer to her. "Say it again."

I smirk.

Poor little thing.

I know what she wants to hear. The desperation is often on her face, mixed with a frustration that seems painful. I held up my end of the bargain, I let her get close. I've held her against me most nights, I've kissed the softest skin on her, I've wrapped my fingers through hers, settled her tiny frame into my own during slumber.

She wants my adoration of her uttered aloud. She wants me to wax her soft words and quiet declarations of my feelings, warm promises dreamily spoken into her ear.

I'll do none of those things.

The worst part of this entire situation is the new feeling that burns in my stomach when I think of what she wants. I don't know how to fend off the disappointment that she'll get when I can't tell her I'm in love with her, and I don't ever plan on being in love with her.

It's just that during the times like now, when I'm buried so far into her that I can't tell where I end and she begins, that I think I might actually care for her. The thought of her leaving, while amusing, makes me uneasy. I've quickly grown used to her being around me at all times; she's slipped beneath my skin in some silent manner, infiltrating my every waking thought.

"I said you'll be mine forever. You're never leaving here." I say the words while I kiss her lips. I don't have the urge to bite her mouth shut anymore. Instead I find myself leaning into her, my own pressingly softly against hers, letting myself feel her for a moment longer. There's an intimacy in the act, a trust between us. She knows that I don't enjoy kissing anyone, and she's become the only stark exception.

Her hands wrap around my neck now, and she blinks up at me, her green eyes far too soft. Sometimes she looks at me as though she could love me, or at the very least feel something other than the intense lust that started this mess.

"Forever." She brushes her nose against mine, and one of her hands finds my own.

My stomach drops sharply when she slips her fingers between mine, holding my hand tightly.

I say her name, and this time is sounds just as desperate as the men who've begged me for their lives.

 

I'm fucked when Jax sees her.

It's my own mistake. I've brought her to my office, her presence a blur of her soft white dress and black hair. She's perched upon my lap, her hands examining my hair as though she's never seen it before.

"Does anyone else know it's curly?' She asks me softly. I close my eyes when her nails scrape against my scalp. She works her way through the slightly longer strands on the side. I've been too distracted to get a haircut, too lost in her and all her all too ready self.

"Doubtful." I answer. No one else is ever this close to me, and if they were able to get this close, I'd push them away. I turn my head when I hear the office door creak open, and my eyes land on the man before me.

His expression is one of shock; pure and utter confusion and betrayal all mixed together. His stare is on Ivy, her whole body curled against mine as she turns to look at him, her own eyes widening.

For a moment the room is quiet, and I can see Jax's eyes flash with horror. Everything he's ever thought to question has just been answered. Ivy's posture gives way to the fact she spends her nights moaning my name, her hands are possessively touching the sides of my hair, and her entire body is touching mine, down to her bare feet that rest against my shins.

When the realization that his former lover is perched upon my lap, live and well, his whole posture changes. There's a look that sparks in Jax's eyes, something wild and primal. Something pushing him, as though he should come after me for the prize on my lap. The very prize he was told was no longer breathing.

"Ivy." He gasps her name and he swallows thickly. "I thought you were dead. They told us…"

Her nails dig into my skin as he trails his words off, and I vaguely wonder if she knows they think she's dead. Jax is looking at her with a sense of shock, his simple mind trying to process the very living and breathing Ivy that's before him.

"Go to the infirmary." I bark at him. I try to untangle myself from Ivy's arms. I all but shove her into my office chair, and I make sure I knock it so it turns away from him. "Tell them you're seeing things. You might not be fit for battle." I snarl the final words, hoping it'll spur him to move.

He blinks at me, his face now flush with anger. "Why did they lie to us? Why is she here?"

I feel my lips curl up. "Tell the nurse you think you need help." I step closer to him, I and pull myself to my full height. " I'm sure they're find what you're suffering from is incurable. Unfortunately."

"Have you lost your mind?" He says the words wildly, and I can tell he's panicking. "You want them to send me home? Why do you have her? They said she was dead."

I make my way towards him, my entire posture silently threatening to end his stupid life in the next moment. He doesn't know how easy it would be for me to turn his neck in the wrong direction until it pops, how quickly the life would drain from his eyes.

"It sounds like the best option since you're seeing ghosts." I say the words very slowly, with great intent.

Jax's face turns to something of utter fear, an expression I'm very familiar with. "Did you do this? Did you take her?"

I don't owe him an explanation of why I took what was rightfully mine. I stop right in front of him, staring him down until I watch his spine bend. He's caving, exactly like he knew I would.

"Tell them I sent you." I tell him lowly, and Jax finally gets it.

He nods his head.

 

Ivy is panicking, but it's all unnecessary.

"He'll tell them." She whispers, her fingers twisting in the dark sheets. "He'll tell them that I'm here. I'm not dead."

I snort in response.

I'm not sure what she thinks they'll do. Send their half way trained farmers to Dauntless? Maybe demand her return when they have Grandon doing such a fine job leading their faction? Start a nasty and ridiculous rumor that she's alive?

None of it matters. The idea that she's alive and well, living in Dauntless, is utterly absurd.

I remind her of that.

I hold her down beneath me, one hand knotted in her hair in a tangled mess, and I don't stop until the only word she says is my name.

 

Max cashes in his favor far too early for my liking.

I knew it was coming; I'd have been stupid to think otherwise.

"You're to find Tris. Bring her to Jeanine."

I try to keep from sighing in exasperation. Finding Tris is the last thing I want to think about. At one point it was all that occupied my thoughts. I could just imagine the sweet victory I would feel when I finally had her in my hands, my thumbs crushing her windpipe as she struggled to breathe. The thrill that would run through my entire being as her eyes closed one final time, her whole body falling limp.

There was a time that I could have almost felt her in my hands, her skin clammy as I dragged her to Erudite.

It's different now.

Tris is nothing more than a mere pest, a tiny gnat that needs to be swatted away. By running for her life she's all but done the dirty work for me. I'd thought I was rid of her. There's really no need for me to go find here, wherever the fuck she's gone.

I bite back my retort when I realize Max is waiting impatiently. He doesn't look pleased; in fact he looks annoyed that I'm hesitating. I unclench my hands from the fists that I didn't know they were in, and I nod at him.

"When does she want her by?" I flick my gaze to the papers on my desk, noting the way Ivy had arranged them neatly. I think of her suddenly, large eyes looking up at me while I pushed her back into my mattress.

"The sooner the better. She said no later by next Friday." Max says the words clearly and I nod, never less interested in anything in my life.

He leaves without saying anything else, and I know I'm expected to return with Tris very soon.

 

Ivy doesn't like the idea of me leaving her, and her troubled expression makes something warm curl in my stomach.

"You want me to stay here. In Dauntless?" It's more of a question than a statement, and she utters it while she watches me shrug off my jacket. The familiar irritation flares up for a moment, but it tapers down just as fast. Lately I don't often grow annoyed at her, and this questioning is more personal than practical. She knows full well I would not bring her with me to hunt someone down, and she's far too naïve to realize I've already worked through the unwanted turmoil that idea has brought up.

"You'll stay here. Where you belong." I inform her. I keep my stare on her, making sure it's fixed on her green eyes. She doesn't say anything, but her body language says it all. She curls herself up, hugging her knees to her chest. She's barely dressed in my own shirt, and it won't be long before that shirt joins my own on the floor.

I step towards the bed, noting the way her eyes are downcast. For a moment I wonder if she really thinks I could bring her with me. She may have joined me in battle once, but she's certainly not about to join me on this hunt. I smirk, knowing full well how to remedy this situation.

I kneel on the bed in front of her, making sure my legs are on either side of hers. I lean forward until I can reach her arms, prying them apart. She peers up at me carefully, and she looks downright miserable.

"I could help you." She offers up. Her words are quiet and unlike her. Ivy is hardly of any violent nature, and her offer to come with me to potentially harm another human being tells me just how much she wants to assert her place her with me.

In any other situation I would find this heartwarming.

I smile at her, the kind where my lips curl on their own because her actions delight me. I move to push her back, making sure my nose brushes hers as one of my hands finds her ribs beneath the shirt.

"You'll help me by staying here. I'll make sure you're taken care of." I murmur the words in her ear, making sure to say them slowly. My thumb strokes over soft skin, and she reacts appropriately, arching herself closer to me.

"What if you don't come back?" Her voice sounds wobbly, wavering slightly as she slides her fingers beneath my shirt. I feel them skim along the muscles in my back, her nails scratching the skin pleasantly. "What if you leave me here alone?"

"I wouldn't." I promise and the words sear my throat. She swallows and nods slightly, observing as I rise up to yank the dark fabric over my head. Seconds later her own shirt follows suit, and I'm rewarded the same pale skin I've come to know. I try to ignore the raw feeling in my chest, this dull ache that is blooming as though I've done something wrong. I push it away, focusing on the squirming girl beneath me.

Her hands reach for me, always wanting me closer, and she pulls me back to her.

"Do you promise?" She says the words against my lips, mumbling as she kisses me urgently.

"I won't leave you, Ivy."

It's not until my bare skin presses against hers do I realize that I actually mean the words.


End file.
